


Build Me Up, Break Me Down

by Iridia



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bondage, Dark Marco Bott, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, I feel like an awful person for writing this, Jean has a mental breakdown, M/M, Marco feels kind of bad at least, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Rape/Non-con Elements, awkward darco trying to calm Jean, focuses more on emotional backlash, he's kind of cracked in this, it's not as extreme as the tags make it sound, not much physical torture, poor Jean, unhealthy bdsm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-14
Updated: 2015-05-14
Packaged: 2018-03-30 14:07:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3939670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iridia/pseuds/Iridia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco shifted uncomfortably as he watched Jean breaking down in front of him. It...bothered him? Why did it bother him? He enjoyed making Jean cry from pain and pleasure, but this...why was this different?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Build Me Up, Break Me Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Enticing_Goo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Enticing_Goo/gifts).



> PLEASE READ NOTES BEFORE THE FIC
> 
> The bae and I had been talking about our darco headcanons, and for us there's two different types of darco: the more low-key manipulative one, and the completely insane one. I wanted to write one so the bae requested insane darco awkwardly trying to comfort Jean after he's gone too far. This wasn't very hard for me because I am a sadistic little shit at heart, but I kept it more tame.
> 
> Basically yes there's some physical torture in the form of whipping, but it's not like extremely wounding or life threatening. That is the ONLY physical torture that takes place, I wanted to focus this fic more on the mental and emotional backlash Marco's actions cause Jean.
> 
> That being said if you've read this and are ok with what the fic includes, please enjoy ^^

The old bed creaked softly with every thrust of Marco's hips, laboured breaths filling the still air. Jean twisted his wrists, the rope holding tight around them digging into his skin and no doubt leaving nasty red burns. His forearms were getting numb from being tied behind his back for so long and his body had grown weak and shaky. Marco however, did not seem like he intended to stop anytime soon. Jean turned his head to the side—the collar Marco adorned him with felt heavier and heavier each day—and stared at the array of toys Marco has used beforehand to stretch him open and force him to orgasm again and again. The crop came down on his chest, adding another mark to the collection already covering him; some were bleeding slightly from where the skin had broken open while others swelled up into painful welts. "Look at me," Marco commanded, wrenching Jean's head to face him again.

Jean stared into his cold eye, the other hidden behind a patch. He didn't have the energy or the will to fight anymore. He had been kept in this abandon house for weeks now, Marco having infiltrated the corps and lead him away with false promises and sweet words. He was confined to this room with a chain attached to his collar. Marco took care of his basic needs, but there was no emotion in his eye when he looked at him, no love in his actions. Jean cried out as the crop slashed across his right cheek, tearing the skin there with the force. " _Look at me_ ," Marco growled, his other hand latching on to Jean's hip, fingers digging into oversensitive skin.

"I am looking at you," Jean murmured, voice cracked and raspy from screaming.

"No, you're looking _through_ me." Was the hissed reply, Marco's hand moving up to clamp down on Jean's throat. He picked up the pace, brutally slamming into Jean's sore hole. Jean's eyes widened and his mouth fell open in a wordless cry, Marco's grip preventing any sound from escaping. He leaned down, capturing Jean's lips in a rough kiss and fucking his tongue into his mouth. Jean squirmed, panic rising and tears filling his eyes as air continued to be denied to him. Surely Marco would stop soon right? He tried to reason with himself. He won't actually let me die...right? Marco pulled back, grinning and grinding his hips into Jean's abused sweet spot. It wasn't even pleasurable anymore, he was so fucked out and overstimulated it had become painful. His dick lay limp, completely spent from two hours of "playtime" as Marco referred to it.

As the seconds passed Jean's thrashing became more desperate, trying to shake off the hand around his neck. The tears spilled over, trailing down his face and stinging where they met the cut on his cheek. Jean's lungs burned as he looked into Marco's eye, mouth moving wordlessly as he silently begged for mercy. Marco's eye darkened, and he pressed down even more, seeming to enjoy the fear written across Jean's face. He held it for one...two...three more seconds—though it felt like an eternity—before relinquishing his grip. Jean gasped, trying to draw air into his lungs between soft sobs. Marco threw his legs over his shoulders and bent back down, bending him in half while Jean's muscles screamed in protest. He latched onto Jean's neck, biting down hard on the bruises already forming there. Jean stared past his shoulder to the ceiling, blanking his mind and drawing back from the experience.

 

Marco breathed in the smell of Jean and sweat, worshipping the soft sobs and cries coming from his pet. He loved pushing Jean past his limit, testing him and taunting him. He bent Jean a little further back, so his ass was up in the air, and pulled back a bit to gain more leverage so he could fuck down into him. Jean was so hot around him, clenching down every time Marco hit his prostate. He frowned upon seeing the vacant expression on his pet's face, eyes glazed over and staring emptily at the ceiling. "Hey," Marco called, slapping Jean across the face. Upon receiving no response he grit his teeth and let Jean's legs fall limp back against the bed. He grabbed his favourite crop again, bringing it down across Jean's stomach, doing it repeatedly and harder each time Jean didn't respond. Getting frustrated he got close and whispered in Jean's ear. "How bout I stuff you with that huge dildo you hate so much? Hmm? How bout I fuck you with that after I'm done? Or should I do it now and take your mouth instead? Fill you from both ends." He knew Jean hated that dildo, and he loved that. He loved stretching Jean open with it and listening as he begged for him to stop. Loved watching the tears pour from his eyes as he fucked him with it, torturing Jean with the pain while grinding it up into his sweet spot and confusing him with pleasure as well.

 

Jean felt like he was floating away, like the pain was happening to someone else. He heard words being murmured into his ear, but they didn't register. He was flying, back to a time when his Marco looked at him with adoration and affection. Before he became this monstrosity. Or was he always this way? Deep inside, waiting for the chance to break free. What if his love had been a lie? If he had only ever acted as such to bring Jean to him, break down his defences. This Marco was manipulative and cunning, he told Jean no one would be looking for him, that he was the only one who really cared about him. And Jean believed it, but Marco's version of caring was certainly twisted. In the beginning of his stay here he had been desperate to see if there was any of his Marco left. He had asked Marco if he loved him, and Marco said yes...but it felt empty. Jean felt empty too, he was sure that even if Marco removed the chain he wouldn't run away. Where would he go? What was he without Marco? Marco said the survey corps assumed him dead, and if he showed up again they would be suspicious and lock him away. Marco said he kept him here to keep him safe. But safe from who? Himself, Marco had said. "I'll protect you from everyone and yourself." Jean was starting to believe it, he was beginning to believe almost everything Marco told him. What else could he do but believe?

 

Marco pulled out and walked over to the dresser—not that Jean had noticed of course—and extracted his metal spiked cat o' nine tails whip. He sighed and shook his head, if only his pet would obey him. He hadn't given him that hard of a command. Walking back to the bed he flipped Jean over, tossing the whip aside to untie the rope binding his pet's hands behind his back—couldn't have those in the way now could he? He settled behind Jean, lifting his hips and re-entering him, starting up a leisurely pace of thrusts. Marco ran his hands over the smooth skin of Jean's back, glinting with a sheen of sweat. He picked the whip up and drew his arm back, letting it fall and lash the whip harshly across the body before him. He drew back and did it again, settling into a rhythm of fucking and whipping. The metal spikes dug bloody grooves in Jean's skin with every hit, and Marco felt excitement rush through his veins like a high at the sight of it.

 

Jean started, his conscious yanked back into his body as he experience a pain like he'd never felt before. He brought his hands up beside him, realizing he had been put onto his stomach. His back burned like fire and stung harshly, and a scream ripped from his lips as the next hit came down. He managed to put together what was going on, he knew Marco had that whip but he had never used it before, and Jean had hoped he never would. He cried out as his skin was torn again, hands fisting in the blankets. He wouldn't try to get away, he couldn't. He would just make Marco angrier. So he clung to the blankets, knuckles turning white as he tried to ground himself. How? How could Marco do this to him? All of this? All this captivity and torture and being reduced to a possession. _His_ Marco would never do something like that! Jean's mind provided him then with an image of Marco, smiling and laughing as he made flower crowns for their friends. His eyes filled with tears again, and he felt himself shutting down but he couldn't bring himself to care. Heavy, heart-wrenching sobs ripped from his chest, making his knees weak and his trembling body shake harder. Every lash felt like it was carving into his soul, while his mind cruelly played all of his cherished memories of Marco. He couldn't do this, he just couldn't anymore.

 

"Fuck," Marco muttered, hips working faster as he felt himself peaking. He ignored the despaired sobs coming from his pet, he'd be fine, though he did drop the whip to focus on fucking into Jean. He grabbed his hips, pulling his pet back into every brutal thrust until he came, moaning and spilling inside Jean. He stayed there for a bit, riding his orgasm before pulling out. He swept his bangs back from where they had stuck to his forehead and grabbed all the toys he had used this session, dumping them on top of the dresser to clean later. He was hot and sweaty and really wanting a bath. With this in mind he began towards the door, but paused as he realized something.

Jean was still crying.

He turned around and stared. Jean had collapsed on the bed and hadn't moved other than the fierce shaking of his body. His back was still bleeding in multiple places and his wrists were badly chaffed from the rope. None of this really bothered Marco, but the _crying_. Gross, panicky sounding sobs like he'd never heard before. Something inside of him twinged and he crept back up to the bed. He grabbed Jean's shoulder, attempting to turn him over, but Jean cringed and curled into a ball on his side. Marco huffed and went around to the other side of the bed, facing Jean. His face was blotchy red from crying, tears pouring down like heavy rain. "Hey," Marco said, "that's enough." But Jean continued, his eyes glassy. Marco shifted uncomfortably as he watched Jean breaking down in front of him. It...bothered him? Why did it bother him? He enjoyed making Jean cry from pain and pleasure, but this...why was this different?

He reached out, awkwardly patting Jean's shoulder. "Uh, it's ok." This had no effect so he moved to pet Jean's hair. "There there?" He tried. Nothing. His gut twisted unpleasantly, oddly upset by this turn of events. He knelt on the bed, hands hovering in the air as he debated what to do. He decided to lift Jean up into a sitting position, but Jean couldn't seem to support himself. Marco wrapped his arms around him to keep him upright but dropped him in surprise at the pained shriek that his pet emitted. Oh right, his back. Marco left Jean where he was, heading to the washroom.

 

Jean laid there in agony, crying more and more even when it felt like there shouldn't be any tears left to shed. Marco wasn't coming back, he was sure of it. He didn't care about Jean, he knew that now. It was painful to think about, so he turned his thoughts off, focusing on the feeling of the blankets sticking to his ruined back. He was too drained to move anymore, not even to turn over. It didn't matter though, nothing mattered anymore. He closed his eyes, intent on pretending he was somewhere else, _sometime_ else.

The creak of the door caught his attention, but he ignored it, wrapping his arms around himself. The bed dipped slightly, and surprisingly gentle hands turned him over, exposing his back. Jean whimpered as a cool wet cloth was pressed to his skin, cleaning away blood and sweat. This continued for a while, Marco turning him to his side to clean any cuts left by the crop on his front, and then wiping away the blood and tears from his cheek. Jean still refused to open his eyes, instead listen to Marco shuffle around. A soothing cream was applied to his back, taking away the residual burn. He let Marco apply it where he wished, surprised when he even used some for the rope burns on his wrists.

Jean took in a shaky breath and sniffled, opening his eyes to see Marco staring at him with his brows furrowed. Marco reached out, persisting even when Jean flinched back, and wiped fresh tears from his face. "Please stop crying?"

"Don't touch me," Jean whispered almost inaudibly. Of course Marco didn't listen though, instead he moved closer, manhandling Jean into sitting upright. Jean felt dizzy and lightheaded, barely managing to support himself on weak arms this time. He looked distrustfully at Marco who held up a roll of bandages.

"Sit still so I can wrap those wounds." He began to do as he said, loosening them whenever Jean hissed in displeasure of them being too tight. Jean let himself fall again after, wincing as his back came in contact with the bed and slowly turning himself over. "Hey no." He heard Marco's voice, and felt hands nudging him up until he was propped against a warm figure. "Drink this." A glass was placed to his lips and Jean opened obediently, the water blessed relief to his sore throat. When he was done Marco gathered everything up and left again. Jean's eyes began to droop, exhausted from sex and crying. He was halfway to being asleep when he felt a presence again. Marco lay next to him and Jean could feel how he was tense with awkwardness as he slowly wrapped his arms around him. He sniffed again and heard Marco suck in a sharp breath. "Please don't cry again." Was muttered into his hair, the arms around him tightening and drawing him into Marco's chest.

Jean was too tired to fight anymore, so he chose to simply close his eyes and breath in Marco's scent. He still smelled the same as he used to, and it was comforting. Jean closed his eyes and pretended it was his Marco holding him close, the warm body and heartbeat lulling him to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this sick twisted shit, and again let me know if there are any tags you feel should be added or changed. Thank you :)


End file.
